


Ro-sham-bo mocks you

by Atanih88



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-01
Updated: 2011-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-16 01:11:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atanih88/pseuds/Atanih88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It should have been funny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ro-sham-bo mocks you

**Author's Note:**

> Written for audreytiphaine for this [prompt](http://atanih88.livejournal.com/77698.html?thread=550274#t550274). Erm, yeah, I got nothing. Audrey, if you're scarred, you have to take responsibility. This is also un-beta'd so apologies for any/all mistakes, feel free to point them out if you see them! Extremely mild cross-dressing.

See, it had started out as funny. Dean's face when he lost at rock-paper-scissors three times in a row (seriously, when was he going to stop with the scissors?) had been the best thing Sam had seen in days.

It hadn't taken them all that long to figure out that the missing men all had one thing in common.

Cross dressing on Sunday nights down at the local gay club.

But now—it really wasn't all that funny and Sam would be happy to never see another corset in his life, _especially_ not one anywhere near his brother. Of course, Dean was being an _ass_ about the whole situation in general and ignoring any and all conversation attempts from Sam at trying to see the brighter side. ( _It's a place full of gay dudes Sam, there_ is _no silver lining_ —was what Sam had been getting so far.)

Sam frowned down at the lacing of the corset and tugged on them—stopped when he heard Dean grunt and saw his shoulders flex as if trying to loosen the damn corset up. See. This is what was sucking the fun right out of it. Not that he'd ever thought his brother was ugly—Sam had eyes—but, who knew Dean and satin would go so well together.

"What the hell Sam? You trying to cut off my air supply? I need to actually be able to breathe if we're getting anything done in that place."

Sam glanced up; making sure Dean could see the roll of his eyes in the mirror. "We have to do it right, so stop bitching about it."

Dean's mouth thinned out some more. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Sam. For a second Sam saw the humour in the situation again and his mouth twitched as he took in the sight of Dean in nothing but loose, navy blue boxers and an amaranth pink corset. With his bow legs and I'm-butch stance, it was one of the most ridiculous things Sam had ever seen.

But then there it was.

Sam dipped his eyes back down and continued with the lacing, big fingers uncharacteristically awkward as he continued to tighten the damn thing up from top to bottom.

The thing was... the thing was that the pink looked pretty good on Dean's skin and the smoothness of the satin did stupid things to it. Like, for instance, the fine dusting of freckles along his shoulders. Yeah, Sam had never even paid attention to those. But now they were making him think of pears—the sugary sweetness that rolled over his tongue, cold and wet when he bit into one. Stupid. His knuckles kept on rubbing over the bones of the corset and it took a shift and a scowl from Dean thrown over his shoulder for Sam to realise that as he'd been following the lacing down, his thumb had developed a mind of its own and started rubbing down on skin, tracing the line of Dean's spine bump by bump.

Dean cleared his throat and his eyes flicked down, indicating Sam's hand before going back to Sam's face. "Hand getting a little too comfortable there Sammy?" That damn eyebrow was up and it should've done the trick and made Sam come back with something about how Dean looked too at home in women's clothes (so it was just the corset but there was the skirt laid out on the bed too.) But Dean's voice didn’t quite come out with its usual tone. It sounded a bit like someone had ran it through a grater at the edges.

Sam's jaw tightened and as he tugged, threaded through holes and out again with a pull that was too much on the aggressive side, Dean stumbled back from the force of it.

"Du—" Whatever else Dean was going to say was cut off when his ass settled right against Sam's crotch and Sam moulded a hand to his hip to steady him. And those freckles were right under Sam's face too.

And suddenly Sam was swallowing hard and his cock—still soft but taking interest was nestled up to Dean's ass, the heat from firm rounded muscle seeping through and warming more things than it was meant to.

But then he was doubling over from an elbow to the stomach and stumbling back from a shove.

"Seriously man, you on something?" Dean muttered. He was already stomping out of the bathroom, laces still undone behind him and undoing all of Sam's work, bow legs adding a comic touch when accompanied by the pink corset and still, Sam couldn't find the humour in the situation. Not when there had been a blush of rose spreading under those freckles on Dean's shoulders and not when there was something raw raking through Sam's stomach and leaving goose bumps in its wake.

Yeah. It should've been funny.

Sam straightened and pushed the hair back from his face and stared at his reflection in the mirror.

"Get your ass out here and let's get this damn thing done."

But it really wasn't.


End file.
